A Grammy award-winning audio book producer/director celebrates the most incredible instrument of all:
the human voice.

Paul Alan Ruben

Monday, August 22, 2011

The Dialogue, Part I: “Inside” the Quotation Marks, and Outside

The performance background of most narrators includes theatre, perhaps film and television as well. Experience has trained them to reflexively adjust to these mediums’ particular performance demands (on stage they project; television and film require vocal choices be mediated by a myriad of external factors, such as location, etc.). It should follow that audio book narrators approach narrative fiction and non-fiction dialogue according to this medium’s unique demands - that is, differently than they would in a play or a film. In my experience what should follow sometimes doesn’t. Why? Perhaps because this medium’s demands aren’t fully recognized or appreciated.
Two essential elements - unique to audio book narration – not only impact dialogue choices but cause us to redefine ‘dialogue’ as well: the booth; and the narrative outside the quotation marks. Honoring these utterly unique elements permits the narrator the possibility of realizing his full storytelling potential. Ignore or defy them and, from my perspective, storytelling is an impossibility.
For the purposes of this entry, let me try and unpack these critical elements by focusing on a slice of narrative fiction (more on non-fiction in Part II):

Holly leaned into Ed. She studied his wavering smile. As if Holly could see them, she assessed his inner fears, where she knew Ed lived and where Holly had to reside if Ed were to…cooperate. That is, if he were to die accordingly: his way, he’ll believe - but in truth, hers. Ed did not fail to disappoint Holly.
“Out,” bellowed Ed. “Or I will kill you.”
“Kill me, then.” Holly smirked.
“I swear it!” he cursed.
Ed’s fingers gripped Holly’s throat. He began to shiver.
Holly grimaced; her eyes bulged; she gasped, quick hiccup-like pleas for air. What she wanted, needed, begged silently for from Ed, this second, was for his fingers to squeeze harder.

Literary merit way aside, an audio book’s fundamental performance demands dictate how the narrator must approach the above narrative’s dialogue within and outside the quotes.

The BOOTH

Audio books come to the listener via an intimate medium: the booth. Therefore, if the listener is to maintain her willing suspension-of-disbelief, the dialogue must be spoken intimately.
(For the moment, let me leave the practical ‘how-to’ challenge of speaking intimately - even when the character is like totally, raging pissed - for Part II.)
Audio book narration is inherently intimate because the ‘booth’ - along with its microphone and other technical accoutrements – requires the storyteller to speak as if to one person and, therefore, express emotional choices intimately.
In-the-booth (as opposed to on-stage or in-front-of-the-auditorium) is an intimate experience. The booth is solitary; silent: its sole purpose is to extinguish outside noise and assert a one-on-one relationship between narrator and listener.
The ‘booth’ - where the narrator physically tells his story – compels him, regardless of a given line’s emotional import, to remember: hey, I better find a way to express myself that is respectful of its demand (intimacy). I must narrate intimately – less volume, less voice.
When the narrator respects the booth’s intimacy she is, ironically, liberated to turbo charge her dialogue, to act her brains out. Additionally, she maintains her intimate contract with the listener – that vital connection that, once broken, compromises the listener’s willing suspension of disbelief.
A book’s dialogue - as in a play or film – may require a whisper, violent screaming fit, and every vocalized decibel in between. Technically, lots can be done to permit the actor myriad decibel choices. Still, while the dialogue may instruct one way, the medium admonishes another. That is, the character’s line may end with, “he said loudly,” but the medium mediates ‘loudly’ by insisting that too much volume interrupts – even kills – intimacy. You can speak ‘loudly,’ but it must be done so, intimately, without volume.
To achieve ‘loudly’ intimately (again, more on ‘how to’ in Part II), I’ll often admonish the narrator: Too presentational, too big. Less volume, more stage whisper. Okay, now – so long as you stay ‘down there,’ meaning intimately loud – you can scream, yell, super-energize the line, give it all you got, blow your guts out.
I often suggest to narrators: presentational acting defies the booth and disconnects the listener. For me, presentational means speaking as if to a crowd, as if the booth is a stage or a large set, as if in front of a throng, as if there’s a back row. Presentational doesn’t inherently diminish emotional import; it merely makes that emotional choice inaccessible when coming from a booth. In another venue – a stage, for example – the collective in attendance appreciate and respond to the presentational actor who kindly invites everyone to participate in that experience. But coming from the booth, presentation is overkill. What it kills, specifically, is the booth’s intimate nature.

‘DIALOGUE’ OUTSIDE THE QUOTATION MARKS

It is fair to assert, from a performer’s perspective, that the narrative is, in effect, all dialogue. The storyteller who treats the narrative outside the quotation marks, as if it exists within them, honors what is fundamental to both fiction and non-fiction: point-of view.
Said differently, if it’s not a particular character speaking it’s the story’s narrator (or literally, the author). To be sure, some portions of the narrative outside the quotes act more like dialogue than others (look carefully at our fiction example) and therefore should be regarded more like dialogue.
It’s important to remember that for the author, words on a page don’t exist as if they had no purpose (just like we humans). Because the narrative, by definition, expresses ‘point-of-view,’ (whether it’s a laundry list, accounting of a grizzly murder, or description of a sunset), the narrator must embody the point of view of whom or what he is speaking about – almost as if that person, place or thing is speaking.
Should the entire narrative sound like dialogue? No. Dialogue inside the quotes is the character actually speaking. Outside the quotes must feel ‘as though’ the character (or place or thing being described) were speaking. Inside the quotes is the character feeling; outside embodies the character’s feeling.
The easiest, if not the most rigorous, way for me to discriminate between dialogue within and outside the quotation marks is by example.
Can you tolerate this slice again?

Holly leaned into Ed. She studied his wavering smile. As if Holly could see them, she assessed his inner fears, where she knew Ed lived and where Holly had to reside if Ed were to…cooperate. That is, if he were to die accordingly: his way, he’ll believe - but in truth, hers. Ed did not fail to disappoint Holly.
“Out,” bellowed Ed. “Or I will kill you.”
“Kill me, then.” Holly smirked.
“I swear it!” he cursed.
Ed’s fingers gripped Holly’s throat. He began to shiver.
Holly grimaced; her eyes bulged; she gasped, quick hiccup-like pleas for air. What she wanted, needed, begged silently for from Ed, this second, was for his fingers to squeeze harder.

Read the following line merely as outside-the-quotes narrative (Yes, you try, too, Aunt Mary. I can’t wait to hear the mp3): What she wanted, needed, begged silently for from Ed, this second, was for his fingers to squeeze harder.
Now, read a second time, as if there were quotation marks, as though cadence, tone, and volume shift matter to embody Holly’s pov, as though you are Holly: “What she wanted, needed, begged silently for from Ed, this second, was for his fingers to squeeze harder.”
When the storyteller recalls that all the narrative’s dialogue must respect the medium’s ‘intimacy’ demand and that point-of-view, the narrative’s heart and soul, appears not only inside the quotes but outside as well, only then can the author’s intent erupt, be fully realized by the narrator and inhabited by the listener.

Next: Performing the Dialogue, Part II: How To Talk Real in Fiction and Non-Fiction, Even If the Author Can’t

1 comment:

Excellent lesson. I recall you teaching my students in NY and you suggested that when the narrator goes "too far" with exertion sounds and the like, they risk breaking the suspension of disbelief. I find my students, particularly those with much acting background, are tempted to "become" the character, rather than "present" when performing violent or action sequences. Why? In acting training, we are admonished for "presenting." In audiobooks, we need to "take a dive" and present some areas of a book. In short - no one wants to be in a car with Al Pacino for 10 hours.

About Me

Paul Ruben has produced and directed award-winning audio books for every major publisher since 1987.
Grammy awards (Best Spoken Word Album) include: Lies and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them (2003) written and narrated by Al Franken; Always Looking Up (2009), written and narrated by Michael J. Fox. Industry Audie awards include: It’s Not About the Bike (Narrator: Oliver Wyman), Raymond and Hannah (multi-cast featuring David LeDoux/Kathleen McInerney), The World is Flat (Narrator: Oliver Wyman), A Slight Trick of the Mind (Narrator: Simon Jones).
Paul has a B.A. degree in Theatre and Philosophy (Yankton College), an MA in theatre (Bowling Green State U.), and has directed numerous regional and summer theatre productions. He has contributed feature articles on audio book narration to Audiofile Magazine. In 2005 Paul was elected to the Audio Publishers Association Board of Directors. He currently teaches narration to professional talent. For more information visit: www.tribecaaudio.com